


They're Creepy and They're Kooky

by rsconne



Series: Doin' the Monster Mash [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Classic TV - Freeform, Clexa Halloween Week, F/F, Fluff, Halloween Costumes, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 18:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsconne/pseuds/rsconne
Summary: Clexa Halloween Week Day 7Clarke and Lexa dress up to hand out candy with Raven and Anya.  Fluff ensues.  (Continuation of I Want Candy)





	They're Creepy and They're Kooky

Clarke straightened her wig and turned from side to side, checking herself critically in the mirror.  She smiled, pleased with the end product.  She made faces at herself, practicing a smooth, cool expression.  With Raven and Anya around—not to mention Lexa—it was going to be difficult to stay in character.  She adjusted her boobs a final time and smirked.  It was a good thing she’d made Lexa shower and get changed first so she could man the door for early trick-or-treaters.  She was going to flip when she saw the gown.  Even after their shenanigans earlier that afternoon, Clarke would probably have been hard-pressed to get her to cooperate once she’d seen Clarke in costume. 

She walked out of the bedroom and into the living room.  It was early enough that it was still daylight, but from the sound of the doorbell, Lexa had been busy.  She grimaced as she walked past the disaster zone in the kitchen and headed for the front porch.  Spooky music to set the atmosphere wafted over the speakers that Lexa had set up outside, but the real frightfest wouldn’t begin until Raven and Anya showed up.  She still hadn’t seen Lexa’s costume yet.  She knew who she was, of course, but Lexa had been unusually secretive and hadn’t let her see the full effect. 

Clarke stepped outside onto the porch to find Lexa seeing off a toddler ballerina.  She turned around, and _holy shit_ was it a good thing they’d dressed separately.  Lexa’s hair was pulled back in a thick knot at the nape of her neck.  She wore fitted black trousers and an impeccably tailored black brocade smoking jacket with braided fasteners and black velvet lapels over a crisp white shirt and black cravat.  A jaunty handkerchief and cigar in her breast pocket completed the ensemble.  Clarke’s mouth dropped open.  Her eyes drifted down Lexa’s body and then slowly back up again.  A giggle bubbled free when she saw the fake pencil-thin mustache glued to Lexa’s upper lip, a detail she’d missed on first glance. 

Lexa, meanwhile, had forgotten how to breathe.  Her fingers twitched at her sides and her eyes fell to the deep vee of Clarke’s solid black dress.  Its long black sleeves molded perfectly to her arms and ended in a flurry of ragged ruffles just past her fingertips. The gown clung to her hourglass figure from her breasts to just above her knees, accenting her generous cleavage and small waist.  It continued all the way to the floor, pooling and obscuring her feet in a puddle that almost resembled tentacles.  Lexa’s throat bobbed as she took in the full effect of Clarke’s long, straight, black wig, her pale makeup, and blood-red lipstick. 

“ _Fuck,_ Clarke,” Lexa managed hoarsely.  She unconsciously licked her lips.

Clarke smirked to herself: exactly the reaction she’d hoped to provoke.  She approached Lexa slowly, putting a little extra sashay in her hips.  She tried to chide her with a straight face, but god _damn_ , was it difficult to think straight with Lexa looking like _that._   “Stay in character, _mi amor_ ,” she said in a husky voice, trailing a finger down Lexa’s lapel. 

Lexa closed her eyes and inhaled the clean scent of Clarke’s bodywash.  “Did you just speak French to me?”

“ _Oui, ma chérie_ ,” Clarke whispered theatrically.

“Oh, Tish!”  Lexa seized Clarke’s hand and planted exaggerated kisses up her arm.  She paused on reaching her collar and sucked an actual kiss to her neckline.  “Can’t we just leave a bowl of candy out so I can take you back to the bedroom?” she coaxed.

Oh, it _did_ sound like a good idea.  Clarke turned in Lexa’s arms and smoothed her hands over Lexa’s lapels.  She marshaled her wavering resolve.  “Raven and Anya will be here any minute,” she demurred.

“So _they_ can hand out candy, and _we_ can—”

“ _Lexa_ ,” Clarke interrupted, “do you really want your sister—and _Raven_ —around while we’re…you know?” 

Lexa blanched.  “Oh God.  No.  A thousand times, no.”  

Clarke gave her a wry look.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”  She kissed Lexa, letting her lips linger for a beat in subtle promise.  “But later….”

“Oh, my eyes!  You guys are the scariest thing I’ve seen all night!”  Lexa groaned at the sound of Anya’s mocking voice and disengaged from Clarke.

“Hi, Anya,” she said in greeting as Anya and Raven came up the walk.  Raven was decked out in an elaborate mummy costume, trailing strands of linen in her wake.  And Anya…Lexa did a double take when she saw Anya’s costume: a black wig styled in two braids on either side of her head, a black, long-sleeved shirt dress with a white, peter pan collar buttoned all the way up the front, black tights, and black, old-fashioned, lace-up granny shoes.  Wednesday Addams.  “Wait, did you get to pick out your own costume?  Did you do that on purpose?  How did you know?”

Anya huffed.  “Raven’s not the boss of me!  I can pick my own costumes.”

Lexa smirked and crossed her arms.  “Oh, so last year’s fairy godmother was 100 percent _your_ idea.  Funny, I never saw you as the glitter-winged type.”

Anya growled at her, seeing the trap she’d walked into.  “Whatever.”  She took in Clarke and Lexa’s Morticia and Gomez outfits and rolled her eyes in realization.  “No, I _didn’t_ know,” she said, shooting Raven a look.  Raven beamed back innocently.  “But I suppose we _are_ family.” 

They all walked in the house and Anya put down the bag she was carrying.  She dug out a few more bags of candy to add to the supply.  Raven, meanwhile, kept moving toward the kitchen.  “Clarke, I brought some rum, I thought we could make some of that hot spiced cider you like.”    

Lexa’s eyes widened and she looked at Clarke in horror, shaking her head.  “Raven, wait!”  Clarke darted after her to catch her before she reached the kitchen, but it was too late.    

Raven came to a dead stop in the kitchen doorway and then walked cautiously into the room.  The others piled in behind as she and Anya took in the chaos: chocolate smears on the counter and cupboards, chocolate streaks on the floor, chocolate spatter on the walls, a haphazard pile of congealing, chocolate-covered apples on the counter.  “Clarke,” she said slowly, “why does it look like an M&M dude was murdered in here?”

Anya bent down and retrieved Lexa’s discarded chocolate-soaked bra from under the kitchen table.  She held it aloft with one finger.  “I’d say someone was getting in the holiday spirit,” she observed gleefully.  Lexa lunged at her, but she danced aside grinning, holding the bra out of Lexa’s grasp.  “Hey Lex, did Clarke give you something good to eat?”  Raven guffawed and Clarke and Lexa turned bright red.  Lexa finally managed to snatch the bra away from Anya, who was laughing hysterically at Lexa’s embarrassment.  “Did you get a taste of her Milky Way?” she cracked, wiping tears from her eyes.  Clarke covered her face with one hand and Lexa fled for the bedroom to dispose of the incriminating garment.  “Hey!” Anya called after her, “how many licks did it take to get to the center of her Tootsie Roll pop?”  She and Raven roared with laughter. 

“Oh my God,” Clarke whispered, mortified. 

Anya clapped her on the back, the look on Anya’s face more like Christmas morning than Halloween night.  “Sorry, Clarke, but this is just too good.  I think that’s the last I’ll hear of the fairy godmother outfit,” she said with satisfaction. 

Clarke cleared away enough of the mess so that she and Raven could make a batch of spiced cider while Anya manned the candy bowl.  When Lexa finally emerged from the bedroom, the pink still fading from her cheeks, they all repaired to the front porch and kicked the festivities into high gear.  By now it was dark and most of the smallest trick-or-treaters had already made the rounds.  Now it was mostly a steady stream of older elementary- and middle-school-aged children, with a handful of teenagers mixed in.  Raven took up her position.  As trick-or-treaters came up the walk, they braved a gauntlet of mist swirling around realistic-looking foam gravestones and the cacophonous howls and barks of red-eyed. skeletal dogs.  Eerie music raised more than a few goosebumps.  Just as children—and parents—turned to leave, clutching hard-earned candy in their bags, Raven swung open the lid of the sarcophagus and lurched out after them, moaning and rattling chains ominously.  Inevitably, the kids shrieked and ran—and some of their parents, too.         

Raven was thoroughly enjoying herself.  “Oh, man, I never thought R2D2 could run that fast,” she cackled.  “I can’t wait to see the hidden camera footage.” 

Lexa and Clarke busied themselves distributing candy while Anya kept up a sardonic banter  (“Don’t give away _all_ the Mounds, Clarke, those are Lexa’s favorite”).  They bore Anya’s teasing with relative good grace.  As the night wore on, their heated glances grew more frequent and their self-control began to fray.  When she thought no one was watching, Lexa’s eyes raked hungrily over the pale swell of Clarke’s breasts and the flare of her hips.  Clarke, meanwhile, capitalized on every opportunity to let her hands drift, seemingly innocently, over the raised pattern of Lexa’s jacket. 

The flow of trick-or-treaters eventually trickled to a halt.  Raven and Anya helped with some of the clean up before they took their leave.  Lexa could tell from the mischievous spark in Anya’s eyes that she hadn’t heard the last of the kitchen incident, but she figured she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.  After all, it had been worth it.  Her body flushed at the memory. She carefully peeled off her fake mustache—it had been irritating her all night—and went in search of Clarke. She found her back on the front porch, stooped over to unplug an extension cord.  The angle left little to the imagination, and the warmth that had been building between Lexa’s legs all evening blazed hotter.  She helped Clarke to her feet and led her, unresisting, into the house, where they were finally free to touch each other the way they had both longed to all night. 

Clarke dug her hands into Lexa’s hair, freeing it from its confinement, and leaned into Lexa’s kiss.  Lexa’s hand settled at the small of Clarke’s back, fitting their bodies together in perfect harmony.  She nibbled teasing kisses along Clarke’s jawline and whispered hotly in her ear, “How long has it been since we waltzed?”

“Hours, _mon petit raton laveur._ ”

“ _Cara mia_ , I love it when you speak French!”  Lexa kissed her again, a slow, searching slide of lips and tongues. 

Clarke sighed contentedly against her lips and said meaningfully, “I know I say it every year, but this was the best Halloween yet.”

Lexa caressed her cheek tenderly and said softly, “When we’re together, darling, every night is Halloween.”


End file.
